


we who count the grains of sand

by thescyfychannel



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Double Penetration in One Hole, F/M, Fingerfucking, M/M, Multi, Quadrant Vacillation, Seadweller Anatomy (Homestuck), Team Up, Threesome - F/M/M, Troll Biology (Homestuck)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26192011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/pseuds/thescyfychannel
Summary: Cronus has a tendency to rest on his laurels, Cronus has a tendency to get easily bored.Cronus also has a tendency to assume his advantages will always remain.
Relationships: Cronus Ampora/Eridan Ampora, Cronus Ampora/Eridan Ampora/Feferi Peixes, Cronus Ampora/Feferi Peixes, Eridan Ampora/Feferi Peixes
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11
Collections: Sloppy Seconds 2020





	we who count the grains of sand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [auxanges](https://archiveofourown.org/users/auxanges/gifts).



> "obligatory erifefcro troll prompt. you can do ericro. you can do crofef. you can do all three. (fall out boy voice) i dont care  
> what i do care about? seadweller sex shit. are they on some ship somewhere. are they just fucking around. do they do weird gill or fin stuff. what a dumb question of course they do. we love to see it"
> 
> some fin, no gill, much fucking around + seadweller sex shit

Her hands land over your fins and damn, it's gonna be like that tonight, huh? You tip your head back easy, tempt-taunting her down into a kiss, and it works, of course it does, always works easy when it's the two (three) of you like this. It's hard not to get each other this well when you're all the same pieces of broken seaglass, tumbled over in the same damn waves.

(you've still got edges. you've seen seaglass make a troll bleed.)

Fef's hand is halfway to a tangle in your hair when a snarl rips out of another violet throat and you—unthinking—match its pitch with your own. Shit. Alright. It's gonna be like _that_ , it's gonna be the way it always gets when Danny's in that kind of a mood.

(he likes to show it, likes to make sure you feel it, and you gotta admit it's a class less destructive, self-destructive, than the usual impulses your lot gets up to. you'd like to encourage it.)

Feferi, now, Feferi, though, that girl's all fire and rogue waves, like to tease a hurricane as not, and, well. Dan—he's so damn easy to rile. It's no wonder he's her favourite target, no wonder that she flashes him a grand show of fang and dips down to kiss you again. Gods, the two of them are gonna kill you with their games, and you're gonna fucking _enjoy_ it.

Eridan's there in a psionic's heartbeat, one hand on you and the other on Fef like he can't decide who (what) he wants first. You wouldn't be surprised, his jealousy runs both ways when he's in a mood like this, and the only real solution you've ever bothered to entertain is putting him square in the middle.

(fef's preferred solution involves a lot more fang and blood and claw, and sure, you like that too, but a violet needs a break every once in a while. fuckin tyrians, man.)

And anyway, Fef's gearing up like she's ready to challenge and you're not really of a mind to see which way Eridan'll tip territorial today. Like, you _are_ , sure, but you're also a hell of a lot more interested in just getting your nook properly fucked and your bulge properly wet, y'know? It's a tricky position to be in, when you're dealing with trolls this eager to keep themselves all up and at each other's throats.

Actually, you're gonna have to work on that. Not that it's not adorable and all, but seriously, they love and hate in equal measures and you're near certain that it's a function of their inexperience with the world at large. You can't wait to see them after their first big battle, their first real assignment. It's gonna be all tucked back fins and curling up into the nearest, safest sides—and shit, those will probably be your own. You've really gotta work on that.

You'll start now. You've got two hands, after all, cupping palms over fins is easy, ought to bring them down like nobody's business, and you're quite pleased when it does. Handling two of them at once is a trickier game than taking them one on one, sure, but you're easily bored when you're finding things too easy, and the sort of challenge that ends up with someone sheath deep in you and you sheath deep in someone else? That shit's _impossible_ to resist.

Feferi shudders under your palm; Eridan all but folds up. He ate the last piece of salmon jerky yesternight, so you let him sink to the floor and tug Feferi onto your lap. Now it's a game of kissing her slow, working her up gentle, until she doesn't need the hand on her fin to keep her like this. You'll need at least one hand, after all, and Eridan's currently taking up the only other one you might've had free.

Fuck, you kinda love this. Much as you've tried to avoid the _responsibility_ that drags along after your title, like a too-long cape made for a wiggler's dress-up games, you _love_ conducting a show, being in charge of where and when and how things go. Having absolutely every point of it, having every one and every thing at your command, it's intoxicating. You get why some brinebloods go off the deep end for this shit—you don't intend to, that's for sure. But you _get_ it.

Fef's already keening and squirming, so you let her be; you've popped a wiggly underneath her and by your reckoning, she'll be occupied for at least the next few minutes grinding herself up and down the length of your bulge—more, if she thinks you're not paying her enough attention, and she gets all desperate-eager to win it back—so that gives you ample time to work Eridan into a similar frenzy.

Good timing, too. When you cup your second hand over his earfin, he's already started to get a little growly, shifting in his seat like he'd like to rise up and have a go at taking you on for doing this kind of thing to him.

(you want him to, oh you want him to, you want him to throw his rogue wave self against the sea cliffs you've constructed for yourself, see how much raw rage would fall away and drop to meet him, you want to take him down and _break_ him until he submits.)

Your thumbs brush over the high ridges of his fins and he trills, dropping into a pant as that last note finishes into open, salt-tinted air, his eyes wide and dark and hazy, all gone over for the want of the both of you. Danny's always been a hell of a one for _wanting_ things; it'll make him damn good at what he does when the time comes.

Tonight, though, is about _your_ wants. You've put up with more than enough crap to deserve it, and you're fully intending to get exactly what you'd like. In fact—

Two fingers curl up against your nook and your hands drop from Eridan's fins (too soon) as you keen out a reply. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , you were supposed to have more time before Feferi took matters into her own claws, you were supposed to have a perfect shot at getting everything laid out just how you wanted it to go—

She pushes them both in, _twists_ , and oh you're soaking wet, you're absolutely leaking slurry, and you can hear the purr rumbling low in her throat, dropping to her chest when she pushes in a third finger, a fourth—

"I can't," you gasp out, then throw your head back against the chair, because it's not _fair_ , because they're bastards, because they both know that you know that they know that you _can_.

A fifth, sixth, finger pushes into you, Eridan, and she pulls one out so he can add a third in of his own. You can feel the differences between each one, the way they're shaped, the way they feel, the way they move, and you essay a snarl that leaves you gills flared and gasping for breath.

"Can't believe he thought that would keep workin on us," Eridan mutters, and you can see the pitch flash in his eyes for a moment. "Seriously, Cro?"

"I still think we should've let him win," Feferi retorts, and _oh_ , that pisses you off enough for you to manage a growl. "See? Now he's all riled up! _And_ we don't have any idea of what he'll try out next!"

"Fef, c'mon, you wanted to wreck him just as bad as I did and you know it."

"Fine, fine," she agrees, and fuck, you're disastrously into it, the thought that they've learned this cooperation all on their own, that your main role in guiding them to finding it has been proven to be providing a common enemy for them to destroy.

(see? seadwellers, self-destructive. hand in fuckin hand.)

"Please," you gasp out, because you're a fuckin seaborn yourself and you're _obligated_ to try and steer things back onto your carefully charted course. "Guys, please, I—"

"Nope," they say, and it's Feferi's cheerful exclamation point that does you in way more than Eridan's solid-ending period. Oh, you're so fucking fucked.

Six fingers work you open, and you already know what's coming on quick: Eridan's bulge curls against your leg, Feferi's against your lap, and you'd lost track of when she'd shifted to standing, to bracing one hand on the chair back behind you and leaning down to take on your nook, but you can't really complain (much) when it feels so damn good. You already know how this is going to end for you, and you're aching-eager for it, longing to see what comes next and hating that you don't currently have the self-control to wrest all of that control away.

"He ought to be able to take it by now," Feferi muses, running her thumb up the underside of your desperately twisting bulge. "What do you think?"

"I think he's lucky we've waited this long," Eridan replies. "Tyrians first. How do you want him?"

You have some suggestions for that. You have _several_ suggestions for that.

It's almost a pity that they don't even bother asking you, but you guess that's maybe because you're not the most eloquent guy when you get two bulges stuffed right up inside of you. 

It's cool, though. You're really good at riding this kinda thing out.


End file.
